


Coat and Collar

by sternchencas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Alternating, Poker, Pool & Billiards, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, grace and wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/sternchencas
Summary: Dean is severely injured during a hunt. After Cas heals him, Sam suggests they do something fun for a change. The brothers teach Cas how to play pool and poker, and once he gets the hang of it, Dean gets way more playtime with Cas than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the [Trenchstiel Mini Bang](http://trenchstielminibang.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you to [beingcouy](http://beingcouy.tumblr.com) and [threshie](http://treshie.tumblr.com) for making great art for my fic. Check out their blogs for more great content!!!

"That's just stupid, Sam. We're not going to call him for that,” Dean grunts.

Sam sighs. Sometimes Dean is so unbelievably thick headed it hurts. "What other option do we have?"

Dean looks down on the stone grave and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm sure we can lift it together. Teamwork, you know?"

His voice turns into a higher frequency at the end, showing that he doesn't really believe himself and Sam can feel anger rising inside of him. It's not like they have all the time in the world to burn that stupid corps. "This is granite, Dean, and probably weighs 500 pounds. Unless you are - for example - an angel, I guarantee you, there's no way in hell we can lift this thing. So, either you call him right now, or I'll do it."

Sam knows it’s a pretty useless attempt to change Dean’s mind and as expected he only gets a death stare while Dean crosses his arms. "Go right ahead. Maybe Cas can open a jar of pickles for you while he's at it."

After a few deep breaths - mainly to get rid of the dire need to strangle his brother - Sam tries to concentrate on their friend and suppresses the urge to look up to the sky. "Hey, Cas. Um, it's Sam. Dean and I could really use your help here. If you have a minute."

It's been a while since Sam called for Cas' help and he remembers how weird it really feels to talk to the air. Especially when nothing happens. Dean triumphantly grins at him, but Sam doesn't give up yet. "Look Cas, there is this ghost, and he's killing people and we- DAMMIT!"

Sam almost jumps out of his skin when there's this weird sound of wings and a sudden presence behind him. He gets why Dean hates this part so much. They are both trained to always be aware of their surroundings, and usually, Sam knows if someone follows or sneaks up on him. But when said someone comes out of thin air, even they don't have a chance to adjust. He turns around while trying to get his heart rate down again and ignores Dean's smug smile. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Sam." The angel nods in Dean's direction and his typical frown appears. "Dean. What do you need?"

Dean's smile becomes even wider which is never a good thing. "Oh, I'll have the number twelve with extra onions."

Of course, Cas doesn't get the joke, and his face shows that much, but Sam jumps in before he can ask. "This was supposed to be an easy salt 'n' burn job, but the deceased is in there,” he explains. 

He points at the stone grave, and now there comes understanding in Cas' features. "You want me to lift this."

Sam nods although he feels just as stupid as Dean predicted. "Yeah, that would be great."

Cas walks over to the grave and pushes the ledge forward and slides it down to the ground on one side like he's handling a piece of paper. Sam questions once more how they ever managed to kill angels at all. He doesn't even want to know how powerful they can be without the confinement of their vessels. 

At least Dean finally gets a move on and carries their bag to the grave to finish the job while Cas turns to Sam. "Anything else you need?"

Now Sam feels really stupid because this sounds more and more like they just whistle and Cas jumps like their dog. Sam can read on Dean's face that he wants to say as much, but instead, Cas' voice suddenly cuts him off. "Dean!"

Unfortunately for Dean, the warning comes too late. It seems the ghost to their corps finally arrived and announces himself by throwing Dean against the nearest gravestone which shatters into pieces with a horrible crashing sound. Sam rushes to their bag in an attempt to finally burn the damn thing or at least find anything with iron to defend himself but he only manages two steps before something hits him and he feels himself flying.

It's hard to say if it's good or bad luck that he doesn't hit anything hard but instead, he lands on the ground, and the momentum of the motion carries him down the hill on whose top the grave is mounted like a bad omen. They really should have known better.

When he manages to get a grip and looks up, he's too far away to help anybody, and he can see the outline of the ghost towering over his brother. Dean growls and tries to move but falls back against the gravestone, his face a grimace of pain. With horror, Sam realizes he can't make it in time, and Dean is unable to help himself but before he can even consider the consequences, the ghost bursts into flames.

Sam struggles to his feet and looks over to the grave where Cas lifts his arm out of the stone coffin, checks on him with a side glance and moves over to help Dean. He arrives at Dean's side just a few moments before Sam, and already concern is written all over his face. “Say something, Dean,” Cas says.

“Legs.“ Together with the word a spate of blood gushes out of Dean’s mouth and Sam freezes inside. Dean's voice sounds all wrong. Broken. Sam checks his legs but Dean's jeans aren't even torn and just dirty. 

“Dean, what is it? Are you hurt?“ Sam asks.

He gets no answer from his brother who seems to drift in and out of consciousness every few seconds and tries to form words but only produces more blood. Instead, Cas' voice strains his ears. „Sam? Do you hear me?“

Sam tears his eyes away from his brother and focuses on Cas instead. They have an angel. It's going to be okay. „Yes. Yes, I hear you. What can I do?“

„His spine is torn to shreds. Turn him over.“

With as much care as possible Sam gets his arms around his brother and gently presses his upper body against his own chest. Without hesitation, Cas puts one hand on Dean's neck and the other on his lower back and Sam can't help holding Dean closer when he watches the angel. There's something in his face Sam doesn't like. As if he’s not so sure if he can heal him. But he has to. “Cas?! He's going to be okay. Right?“

There's no answer, and Sam's heart rate reaches new heights. “Please, Cas. Please. Tell me he's going to be okay. Tell me.“

Cas doesn't look at him and just slightly nods, and Sam's fingers claw at Dean's jacket. There's only one reason why Cas wouldn't answer. He's never been an excellent liar.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s late into the afternoon when Dean wakes up. He's in bed in the motel room they’ve been staying at, and it takes him a few minutes to recollect yesterday's events. At least he hopes it was yesterday.

The last thing he remembers is a sharp pain in his back after the ghost threw him against a gravestone and then- He’s not sure how to describe it. Maybe like a hot shower, but from inside.

Actually, hot shower doesn’t sound so bad. Dean gets up and stretches, making sure he can move, before checking himself for injuries. There are none. Even the usual tightness in his back and shoulders is gone. It reminds him of one particular day in his life, back when he crawled out of his grave. He was dirty, dizzy from hunger and thirst, and profoundly confused, but his body felt great. New.

Dean walks into the bathroom and watches himself in the mirror. His body might feel great, but the man looking back at him is still the same. Somewhat broken, pretty much fucked up, and not redeemable. There’s probably not enough grace in the world to change that.

But he’s alive, so Dean does what he always does. Go on.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean wants to look for a new case immediately, but Sam insists that he deserves a break shortly after a near death experience. Sam isn’t thrilled that Dean wants to take his ‘vacation’ in a bar, but after ten minutes of arguing, he gives up.

By the time Dean has his third drink, he suggests calling Cas. After all, he’s the reason Dean is still alive, and he should be part of the celebration. Cas actually comes but is bewildered when there is nothing for him to do, so Sam decides to play pool with him while Dean keeps drinking.

Cas tries to make the game work, but - to put it mildly - he sucks. Still, he doesn’t give up, and instead of making more fruitless attempts, he positions himself next to the pool table and gestures for Sam to have a go instead.

“Show me,” he says, but Sam just shrugs.

“You know, you don’t have to-”

Cas furrows his brows, and his next words are accompanied by a deep growl in his voice. “Show. Me.”

Although Dean isn’t even the intended target, the command sends a shiver down his spine, and Sam obeys. He pockets three of the billiard balls and looks back to Cas.

“Enough?” he asks.

“Yes.” Cas takes the cue from him. “That should suffice.”

Sam walks over to Dean and nods in the angel’s direction with an amused smile. Dean stifles a laugh and watches Cas who focuses on the pool table like he has to build a new world on it.

Only seconds later, it becomes clear that Cas got the hang of it. One billiard ball after the other vanishes in one of the pockets and by the end of it, Sam and Dean stare at him with blank expressions. Sam finds his voice first.

“What just happened?” he asks. “Not five minutes ago you were horrible. And now-”

Sam doesn't finish the question, but Cas answers anyway. "There's a difference between watching someone and observing, Sam. And most of this game is simple geometry and physics. I find it surprisingly easy,” he explains.

Sam gives a little laugh. "I can see that. So how about a game?"

Before Cas can answer Dean blurts out another question instead. "So did you just watch the pizza man or did you observe him?"

That’s the alcohol talking and Dean wishes he could take it back, but Cas just frowns at him. “I watched him,” he says, apparently not understanding the implication in Dean’s question.

Unlike Sam who tries his best to get out of the situation. "We're not supposed to talk about it, remember?"

While this is a valid point, Cas doesn't react in the slightest. He keeps interrogating Dean with his eyes, and Dean realizes this is terrible timing. He's in a specific state of mind that occurs after drinking just the right amount of alcohol.

He's not smashed, but his problems walked out of his brain for a while, leaving enough room for pure pleasure. This could be the reason for his odd question, and it's definitely the reason why he smiles at Cas and winks, inviting him to do ... what exactly? Something drunk people do when they're not thinking straight. Making out. That's it. Dean grins, very pleased with himself because he figured it out and wonders how that would be like.

"Let's do it then,” Cas says.

For a moment Dean is sure Cas read his mind and is agreeing to his strange idea, but Cas turns to Sam who starts to prepare the table.

In the meantime, Dean gets to see something he thought impossible. Cas shrugs off his trenchcoat. It makes sense for playing pool, and he probably should have done it sooner, but it’s so weird that Dean isn’t sure if he’s awake. Cas continues by loosening his tie and pulling it over his head before stuffing it in one of the coat pockets. He does so efficiently and without much movement, but to Dean, it looks like Cas is a stripper who starts the show.

It gets worse when Cas throws the big bundle at Dean who has a hard time catching it, and he struggles against a mixture of sleeves, a belt, and flappy fabric. By the time he's done wrestling the coat Cas got rid of his jacket as well and joined Sam at the pool table.

Dean starts to fold the coat so it won't touch the ground. It takes him a while to question why he cares. It's just a coat. Cas' fucking trench coat. It got dirty, bloody and stabbed all the time. Hell, it was him who ruined the damn thing for the first time. A little laugh escapes Dean's lips. So he deflowered a trenchcoat. That's something to tell your grandchildren.

Dean puts the coat on the chair next to him, now a neat little package and starts to wonder again. Why did poor Jimmy dress up like this? Did Cas tell him to do it? Because who runs around like this? That somehow raises an even more interesting question. What did Cas tell Jimmy to make him say yes? Did he make promises or threats? Or was he just so lovely that Jimmy couldn't resist? Cas is not exactly a sweet talker, that's for sure, but Dean still enjoys talking to him, so that's not a good argument.

While watching Sam and Cas play, Dean takes another sip of his drink and keeps wondering about the angel. It kind of bothers Dean that Cas agreed to play instead of making out with him. Of course, Dean could never say that.

For the first time since he's known Cas, he wants him to read his thoughts. Or maybe he could pray. Silently of course. Even in his drunk state, he knows that it's not a good idea to blab about this in front of Sammy.

"That's impossible! Do it again!" Sam shouts, and the excitement in his voice pierces Dean to the core. It’s been a while since he heard him like that. Sam turns to Dean with a big smile. "You have to watch this! Cas can do trick shots. It's incredible."

Urged on by Sammy's joy Dean gets to his feet and slowly makes his way to the pool table. On the table aren't only billiard balls anymore but a few empty cups placed in a weird pattern.

Sammy waves Dean closer. “Look!“

Dean does his best to watch the table, but Cas stands on the other side and bends over to do the shot. It has never been so evident to Dean that Cas picked a well-built vessel for himself. Usually, Cas is wrapped up in all those layers, but now there's only the shirt which is pulled down by gravity, enough to give Dean a good insight under this last layer. Dean's eyes trail from Cas' more exposed neck to his collarbone, and suddenly he feels the urge to go the same way with his fingertips.

“Impressive, right?“ Sam quips.

What the hell? Only now Dean sees that Cas already did the shot and he acts unimpressed. “Not bad. But can you do it again?“

He looks at Cas who just stands there, keeping his eyes locked on him while Sam arranges the cups in a different pattern. “He can do even better. Right, Cas?“

Of course, there's no answer from the angel, but he moves along the table to get better access and this time his chest almost touches the table when he bends over.

That's too bad because now there's no more skin to look at. And Dean likes skin. It's warm and soft and tasty and hands. What? Because there's no more chance to gawk at Cas' non-existing rack, Dean focuses on his hands instead. He never noticed how delicate they are. Which isn't that surprising because they usually stab angel blades into bodies and smite the shit out of demons.

Now one hand has a firm grip on the thicker end of the cue, and the other is placed on the pool table with the index finger wrapped around the thin end, moving very slowly to get a good position for the next pot.

That wouldn't be so bad, but then Cas starts to pull the cue back and forth a bit. And back again. And forth. Dean catches himself associating very inappropriate ideas with the movement and can't help letting out a sigh when Cas thrusts the cue forward in one fast motion.

He hits the ball with a loud click and sends it over the table in a wide arch so it can't knock the cups over until it connects with the other billiard balls on the table. They scatter in all directions, and most of them end up in one of the pockets. Dean nods in appreciation.

“Not too shabby. Can you teach me how to do that?“ Dean asks, hoping that his drunk mind knows what it's doing.

 

* * *

 

 

It's a simple request, so Castiel nods. “With your already existing skills you may be able to grasp the subtleties of the game,” he says and notices a shared smile between the two brothers.

He phrased his answer oddly again, but he can't help it. What he told them is correct. He may have watched the humans for an eternity, but in the beginning, he never came close to them. He can't talk like them. He can't act like them. Sometimes he’s getting close, and he’s better at some things than others. But way too often he doesn’t get it quite right. Cas never understood feelings and still struggles with the concept. Especially with the Winchesters.

At first, he was taken aback by the pain, self-loathing and guilt people carry around until he realized that this is not the usual way to feel about things, but the Winchester way. But how could he have known? Cas often thinks back to his first moments with Sam and Dean.

In the barn, Dean was so convinced that Castiel was some mean abomination out of hell who was keen to drag him through a whole new round of torture. He never even considered that something good could happen to him even when Castiel told him.

And Sam showed him nothing but awe at first, so sure that he was unworthy in the eyes of an angel. And the next feeling was shame when Castiel talked about the demon blood in him. He felt guilty about something a demon did to him. It’s awfully sad.

Of course, Castiel didn't really care. He had his orders, and the way the brothers felt about things didn't matter at all.

But they do now. Castiel can't even remember when it all started, but there was something about the two hunters that infiltrated his mind. Maybe even his grace. He wouldn't say that they actually changed him but they brought things to the surface and sometimes even Castiel isn’t sure if these parts of him shouldn't stay hidden.

But it's too late now. Castiel is different. He sees more, he listens more closely, and he tries to understand humans. Anna talked to him about doubt, but by now Castiel is sure that the first feeling he ever had was curiosity.

Of course, this sounds a lot like some snake came up to him and offered him one specific apple but he can't regret it. There is this tiny voice deep in his mind telling him that there's no way for him to develop feelings if God himself didn't intend him to do so. There are no flaws in creation. He's not perfect. He really is not. But he is exactly how God wants him to be. He has to believe in this one thing at least.

“Hey Alice, you wanna come out of the rabbit hole?“ Dean asks, watching Castiel with a small smirk.

He always looks like this when Castiel does something a little out of place. Something ‘inhuman.’ “I don't understand that reference,” Castiel says.

Sam huffs a laugh, and Dean shakes his head. “Sometimes I'm not sure if you really don't know or if you're just messing with me.“

Castiel doesn't mess with people. It's hard enough for him to interact in a typical fashion. Messing with people requires a sensitive mixture of teasing and truth combined with humor. Castiel has difficulties to get even one of those things right at a time. Maybe he could acquire this human interaction if he knows more about the things Dean always refers to.

“Who's Alice?“ Castiel asks.

Dean is all smiles when he answers. “You should ask Roy Brown.“

Sam sighs behind him and rolls his eyes. “Now you're just mean.“

That's another emotion Cas picked up pretty quickly. Frustration. Although he tries sometimes there is no way for him to even follow the conversation of the two brothers. Fortunately, Dean waves it away before Cas can really think about it. “Forget it, Cas. Doesn't matter. You just tuned out for a while. What were you thinking about?“

Castiel tries to remember and states the first thing that comes to mind. “You.“

The following moment is a sheer feast of emotions. Both Sam and Dean take in a forced breath and look shocked. Then Sam's eyes wander to his brother, and his whole body gets in a position like he needs to be prepared for Dean's reaction. Dean, on the other hand, swallows harder than usual and his face flushes a bit. He opens his mouth but seems unable to articulate his thoughts, and Castiel realizes that he made the two brothers uncomfortable. Again. Especially Dean. He needs to fix this. “And Sam,” he adds.

The next second is filled with Sam focusing on Castiel instead of Dean, and now he's as uncomfortable as his brother. So Castiel made it worse. Humans are so hard to understand. He shakes his head and tries to explain, “Actually it was more of a memory regarding my behavior towards both of you in the early days of our encounter.“

Dean lifts his hands up in defeat and looks at Sam. “He lost me. You?“

“I'm not sure I wanna know,” Sam says, but his words are accompanied with a small smile.

Castiel waves his hand, mimicking the gesture Dean used moments ago. “It is not of import,” he says. “You wanted me to show you the trick.“

Dean nods but moves away from the pool table instead. “Why don't you start with Sammy. I need another drink.“

Sam's eyes follow his brother with concern and Castiel can't help but feel the same way. “Should he really imbibe any more alcohol?“ he asks.

„That's the whole point of a bar, isn't it?“ Sam says, shrugging.

Castiel doesn't answer but looks at Sam, and while it's still very hard for him to express his feelings, his vessel seems to do it on its own sometimes. He may have indicated doubt because Sam feels the need for further explanation.

“He's good, I guess. Could be far worse,” Sam says before he puts on another smile to lighten the mood. “So, grand master, teach me how to do that.“

Of course, Castiel tries. What he didn't tell Sam and Dean is the fact that he sincerely doubts their ability to improve their billiard skills. They are both excellent players already, and anything more would take a lot of practice.

At least Castiel is getting better at lying. At some point, he figured out that Dean is right. While Castiel doesn't want to become president, a lie here and there can be a good thing. Especially when it comes to the feelings of Winchesters. So he tries to explain to Sam what to do and compliments his efforts, but after a while, Sam just stops. “I'm not getting better, do I?“ he asks, doubt in his voice.

“Maybe if you do exactly what I say,” Castiel says, hoping this is a good way of phrasing it.

Sam frowns. “I don't?“

Castiel shakes his head. “No. You hold the cue in the wrong angle, you hit the ball in the wrong spot, and you use too much force.“

For once it seems to be a good thing not to lie because Sam nods. “Fine. I try again, and you show me exactly what I do wrong, okay?“

“Yes.“

Sam gets in position and looks back to Castiel who bites his lip and Sam smiles. “Already wrong?“

“Kind of,” Cas says, trying to soften the blow.

“Just tell me.” Sam gives Cas a little nod, indicating that he’s fine with critique. “Go on.“  
Castiel wants to, but there is no way he can explain what Sam needs to do. Then he remembers what Sam just said. ‘And you show me exactly what I do wrong.’ Cas knows this demeanor from humans. They don't just talk but make each other do things with gestures. He never saw the value in this behavior, but now he understands.

He walks over to Sam and puts both hands on his shoulders to get him in the right position. Sam immediately stiffens, but even a moose of a man like him can't withstand the strength of an angel. Castiel moves him around like a mannequin but suddenly stops when he hears a voice.

_“Wow, quite bossy, aren't you?“_

Castiel knows the voice, and his gaze travels to Dean, but the hunter sits at the bar and signals the barkeeper to give him a drink.

“Cas?“ Sam asks next to him, and Cas nods.  
“Now you have the right position.“

Sam looks quite uncomfortable in this ‘right’ position and grunts, “And how I am supposed to know how much force I should use?“

Without even thinking about it Castiel gets next to Sam and leans in to lay his own hands on Sam's. Castiel is still horrible with understanding human feelings, but Sam's discomfort radiates out of him almost visibly.

_“Bet those hands could be pretty good with other things, too.“_

Castiel is so startled by the voice that he loses his grip on Sam and turns around again. Dean is still sitting at the bar and only pays attention to his drink. Behind Castiel comes another grunt from Sam. “Cas? What's wrong?“

“Nothing,” Cas lies and turns around to touch Sam's hands again, moving them in the right way. A few seconds later there are a few clicks and one ball after the other drops in a pocket.

Sam grins but shakes his head. “I don't think I could do it again,” he declares. “But thanks for trying, Cas.“

_„Dammit, I'm doing it.“_

Castiel ignores the voice in his head and suppresses the urge to turn around. Whatever he heard it can't be Dean. He's still sitting at the bar.

Sam smiles over Castiel's shoulder. “Wanna have a try now?“

Or not. Castiel doesn't need to turn around. He can feel Dean's presence behind him.

“If our angel isn't out of Mojo already,” mocks Dean.

Now Castiel turns around, meeting Dean's provoking smile. “I can go on. Presumably longer than you can.“  
“

_“Wanna bet?“_

Castiel almost answers when he realizes that Dean didn't say anything. The words just rushed into his mind. Like Dean is praying. But why would he do that? He only prays when Castiel is away from the Winchesters, and Dean wants him to return.

Before Castiel can solve this puzzle, Dean walks around the table. “So you show me or what?“ Dean asks.

“Yes, of course.“

Cas follows Dean who leans over the table and looks at him in anticipation. Castiel gestures to the cue. “You should take your position.“

Dean smiles. “Which one?“

_“Missionary? On all fours? Be precise, man.”_

Castiel might not a have a good grip on pop culture references, but he's not an idiot. Dean is praying about sex, and Cas’ heart makes a little jump. The combination of Dean's unusual behavior and the weird reaction of his vessel leave Castiel's mind blank for a moment.

Fortunately, Sam fills the silence with a little laugh. “Just give him the full cowgirl, Dean.“

“What's your stance called, Samantha? The Hunchback of Notre Dame?“ Dean asks, turning around to Sam.

“You haven't even read the book,” Sam snaps.

Dean ignores the comment. “You gonna go and ring the bell now?“

Sam rolls his eyes and sighs. “I'll get a drink. Cas? Don't be gentle with him.“

He walks away, and Castiel looks at Dean, his mind now filled with a question. “Why are you talking about a cathedral?“ he asks.

“What?” Dean looks at him with a blank expression on his face.

Apparently, he's not the only one who sometimes has problems with following the conversation. "Notre Dame,” Cas explains. “I've been there, and I can understand your fascination. The great organ, the Rose Window, the bell. It's all very awe-inspiring. Still, I'm not sure if it is necessary. Humans tend to erect such huge buildings with as much pageantry as possible while they already have a perfectly beautiful kingdom inside themselves. Just remember the tower of Babel and-”

He stops talking when new words enter into his mind.

_“Erect? Seriously, Cas?!”_

Suddenly Dean pads Cas on the shoulder.

"Sorry Cas, but I may have had one drink too many. I'm really not up to bible stories right now,” he says.

Castiel can feel the confusion crawling onto his face. "You're the one who talked about Notre Dame."

Dean closes his eyes for a moment, and Castiel feels the tension in him like he's holding back a sigh. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a story, you know? A book and a movie..."

He moves his free hand in a little circle like he could go on like that and finally, Castiel understands. It's just another reference he doesn't get. He really should consider this possibility more often, but it fills him with frustration. He lived for so long, and now he doesn't have enough time to catch up on things Dean and Sam learned in their few years on earth.

"I understand,” he says, sounding more disappointed that he wants to lead on.

Dean squeezes Castiel's shoulder for a moment and then takes his hand away to point at the pool table. "You wanted to show me something."

Castiel remembers Dean's prayer when he told him to go into position, so he decides to start there. "There is no need for you to go on all fours. Actually, that may hurt your game."

Instead of the snappy comment Castiel usually gets from Dean after such an explanation, Dean blushes excessively, and the look on his face can only be described as shock. Castiel concludes that either Dean prayed to him unintentionally or he did it on purpose and just assumed it wouldn't work. In any case, he didn't believe that Castiel would know what he was thinking.

Sadly Castiel just destroyed the chance to lie about it to Dean. The only option left is to 'move on.' 'Get past this.' These are things humans do. "Maybe you could just use your usual stance, and I'll correct you?" Cas suggests.

Dean clears his throat and nods. "Ya, sure."

While Dean positions himself at the table Castiel circles it to put all the billiard balls into place again. Then he walks over to Dean and just studies him for a moment.

It’s the first habit he got himself while being on earth. Studying people. He did it for millennia before that, but up close it’s much more intense. Even when they do the same things they often tend to be different from each other and Dean always seems to be different from all of them. Especially his soul.

Castiel is only able to see the souls he touched, so there isn't so much to compare. Sam's soul is like an ocean. Deep and dark at its core but lighter the further it stretches out. Waves crash at the shore with the need to touch everything out there and cleanse it from evil.

Bobby, on the other hand, is like a forest. There are strong roots buried in the dark earth, thick tree trunks reaching for the sky and wide arcs of branches ranging from nowhere to everywhere. You can cover yourself in leaves, lean on the wood, find shelter and listen to the wind forever.

Dean's soul, on the other hand, is- The best word Castiel can come up with is ‘hidden.’ Maybe because nothing else fits. It's like a black hole sucking him in with unnatural force. He tried to walk away from it many times. He can't. There's an image of exploding colors whenever he thinks back to rescuing Dean out of hell. There is warmth. Something soft like satin. It tastes like honey and sounds like a thunderstorm that tries to whisper.

By the time Castiel makes it past these sensations he's exhausted but still drawn like a moth to the light. And he can see it then. A concentrated orb of fierce power and pain, darkness and depth, light and longing. He tries to reach it every time, but something holds him back, makes him leave. Over and over again.

“Cas?“ Dean whispers, the drop in volume so unusual for him that the word beats in Cas’ ear like a drum.

Dean looks at him over the table, his eyebrows raised with the question but not in a cheerful request that suggests Castiel's weirdness but in with a sadness, Castiel doesn't understand. If only he were able to take that away. Just once. Thousands and thousands of words rush through his head. Suggestions, lies, jokes. They combine with pictures, symphonies, and odors. There's so much he knows but what to tell the lost soul in front of him?

“I think Sam fancies the redheaded waitress,” Cas says. It’s the simplest thing that came to mind.

It works. Dean looks like he's supposed to. Surprised. Raising his eyebrows even further he looks over to Sam for a moment, and suddenly he laughs, losing all the built-up tension.

Castiel took delight in this quite a while ago. Everytime Dean laughs he's less hidden. Tiny beams are breaking loose from the core and flutter in the air before they disappear and Castiel can feel his vessel react again. His lips turn into that little arc. He smiles and gets a wide grin from Dean in return.

“Sam can handle himself. Let's concentrate on this, ok?“ he says, retaking his previous position.

Like Cas did with Sam before he starts to correct Dean's posture. It's much more comfortable with Dean because his muscles aren't all tense and he just moves along with everything Castiel does to him.

But this is not the only difference between Sam and Dean. Castiel once sniffed out a cured bladder infection on a corpse. He's more than able to comprehend the slightest changes in bodily functions. And Dean suddenly has a lot of those.

His whole body feels warmer, and his pulse is higher. This may concern Castiel, but then he discovers that the changes relate to things he does. When he grabs Dean's hips and pulls slightly to get him farther away from the table Dean's pulse reaches another high.

“Sweet Jesus.”

Castiel places his palm on Dean's back and pushes carefully so he has to bend over a little more and suddenly Dean leans on the table so his legs can't just give out.

“Holy mother of-”

“Stop that, dammit!“ Dean grunts.

“Stop what?“ Cas asks.

“You're killing me.“

“I’m just trying to get you into the right position.“

Dean grunts. “For what exactly?!“

_“Damn porn production.”_

Although Dean doesn't say the last part out loud, Castiel comments on it to reassure Dean. “It's not my intention to film sexual intercourse with you.“

“You damn son of a bitch.”

Dean is quiet for a moment before a giggle breaks out of him and he sighs. “Guess I can't hide from you, huh?“ he says, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Castiel thinks about Dean's soul. It has never occurred to him that Dean may hide on purpose. “Why would you?“ he asks.

Dean's head falls down and rests on the green cloth of the table, and he stays there like a weight is pressing him down while words rush into Castiel's mind. Dean seems to pray again, but it's too much at once, and he doesn't really form sentences. It feels ill and presses Castiel to heal him.

Castiel moves closer but then stops. Something happens when he touches Dean, and he isn't sure if it's good or bad.

“I don't know … just … why … need … please … lost … a sign … help … I can't …”

But then again no one knew if it was good or bad when he raised Dean from hell. Still, he did it. He would do it again. Every day.

Castiel takes another step forward to make his presence more visible to Dean. For a hunter, the guy can be quite jumpy. When Cas feels save enough, he stretches out his arm and slowly strokes Dean's cheek, depriving his blood of the lingering alcohol.

Dean might have the illusion that it helps to dull his pain but Castiel knows that there is always the point where it starts to hurt him even more, and Dean had enough of this in his life. Castiel swore to rid him of this evil as much as possible.

When he takes his hand away, there's a sound from Dean Castiel never heard before. He doesn't even know what to call it.

“Accept it. Scaredy cat.”

Dean gets in an upright position again and takes a quick glance at his brother before turning to Castiel. “Yeah,” he confirms, “why would I.”

Even with his rusty social skills, Castiel knows that Dean just had a very untypical response time, but at least he's talking, and the chaos in his mind seems to be gone. He even smiles a little when he bends over the table again. “Let's just do this,” Dean says, his voice much lighter than before.

Cas still wants to reassure him that there’s nothing he has to do for Cas’ sake. “We don't have to.“

“I want to,” Dean insists.

“I can explain what you have to do,” Castiel says. After all, Dean accused him of wanting to kill him. “I don't need to touch you.“

Dean lets out a deep sigh and looks up at Castiel. “I want you to touch me.“

There's something different in his eyes, and it does something to Castiel that never happened before. It's his pulse that quickens now, and he feels the temperature of his own body rising. Maybe that's one of the things he doesn't know about humans. Maybe their bodies synchronize.

He just nods for an answer and walks over to Dean's other side. If he’s not reluctant to being touched it’s easy to show him the right technique. Castiel leans in and places his hand on Dean's on the cue to demonstrate the right force. At least this is his intention. What Dean takes from it is a shiver that moves through his whole body.

“It's fine. Go on.”

Castiel isn't sure if Dean talks to him or himself, but he just keeps going. His body aligns with Dean's so he can reach his other hand and he tries to touch him as gently as possible so he wouldn't startle him again. It doesn't work.

Whenever Cas’ fingertips trail over one of Dean's fingers to place them in the right position air gushes out of Dean's slightly parted lips, and Castiel can feel Dean's pounding heart where his chest touches him. When he leans in even closer to guide Dean's hand for the shot he covers him like a second skin and Dean starts panting until the billiard ball finally moves and Castiel backs away from him. Dean finishes the whole exercice with one long sigh and smiles first at the table and then at Castiel.

“Not bad, right?“ Dean says with a little smile.

Castiel concentrated too much on Dean so he has to check the pool table first before he can answer, but then he nods. “Very good.“

Dean grins, grips the cue tighter and raises his shoulders like he's preparing for something. “Fine. Then let's do another one.“

Until this point Castiel thought he didn't know much about humans but that he could learn everything if he just tries hard enough. Now he's not so sure anymore. Dean's behavior just doesn't make sense. It's like that damn movie with the pizza man.

Dean insists on continuing their practice although his body goes through a series of strange changes and Castiel isn't sure if they are good for him. His body temperature and pulse are always too high, and he still has problems with his breathing. Sometimes Dean holds his breath for far too long, and then he gulps down air like he's seconds away from suffocating. His body shivers from time to time, and while he obviously tries to relax his muscles, he stiffens for a moment whenever Castiel touches him. Because of this Castiel tries to stay away from Dean as much as possible but Dean renders his attempts utterly useless. Despite his rants about personal space he seems to give a crap about it now and never leaves a radius of two feet around Castiel.

Usually Castiel would file that away in his brain and try to make sense of it later, but unfortunately, Dean starts to affect him as well. The constant closeness seems to electrify even the air around them, and he can feel a tingling sensation all over his skin. Maybe that's the reason why he can't stay still for a second and all his senses are intensified.

Cas can feel the warmth of Dean's skin without even touching him and is surrounded by that intrinsic smell he only affiliates with the hunter. Whenever Dean speaks the sound waves don't just travel to Castiel's ears but through his whole body and he makes out the words by reading them through his bones. He's pretty sure that this is something humans don't do, but he can't help it. His vessel gets more and more out of control especially when Dean starts to touch him. Castiel is sure he's not doing it on purpose, but when you practically dance around each other for 30 minutes at a time, you start to be more comfortable in that self-made zone of intimacy.

 

It starts with little things like connecting fingertips when they pass the chalk, goes to patting hands on shoulders and finally leads to Dean's hands on Castiel's hips when he moves him to get in a better position for his next shot.

This last touch stills Castiel’s breathing for a moment and while his stomach turns upside down his blood rushes through his body with a burning sensation. If it wasn't for his grace, he might be lying on the floor and be drooling right now. How Dean can stand this is a mystery to him, but at least this thought gives him clarity. Dean feels precisely like him right now, and there is just one reason for it. Affection. Maybe the pizza man does make sense after all.


	3. Chapter 3

“So you're ready for the world championships now?“ Sam asks, taking a seat at their table.

Dean doesn't answer his brother but fakes deep concentration. The little dance with Cas made him forget that Sammy is still here and he's afraid his excitement may show.

The deep voice coming somewhere from too close to him doesn't help. “He improved a lot,” Cas says.

“Really? And I thought you were already perfect,” Sam jokes.

That forces Dean to finally look at his brother so he can roll his eyes at him and in the corner of his eye he can see Cas frown.

“Nobody is perfect, Sam,” Cas deadpans.

The brothers can't help but laugh in unison because it's one thing to not get a joke but Cas unintentionally delivering such a typical line is comedy gold. Now Dean is even thankful that Sammy showed up because the tension that built up between Cas and him was about to take him apart.

Instead of jumping the angel's bones he challenges his brother to a game of pool and shows of his newly learned moves until Sam has enough and proposes to go home and pass the time with another game Cas could be interested in.

Dean doesn't mind the idea, but first, he has to clarify one burning question. “What about the waitress?“

Sam shrugs his shoulders. “What about her?“

“You talked to her for quite a while.“

While his tone implies basically every possible sexual intention, Sam just nods. “Yes. I answered her a few questions because she wants to go to Stanford.“

Dean sighs. “You know, sometimes I'm not sure if you're really my brother.“

Sam laughs about his disbelieving tone.  
“What? It's not like you hooked up with somebody, right?“

It takes Dean all his might not to look at Cas right now, and he walks faster to get out of his brother's reach. “Shut up,” he grunts, but he’s not angry at Sam. He just wishes he had the stones to hook up with a certain someone.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean stares at Cas quite visibly while Cas drops a bill on top of a little pile in the middle of the table, announcing what he does, "I raise.”

Dean lets go of the sigh that built up in him for the past hour. "Of course you do."

Cas doesn't respond. He takes this whole poker-face-thing very seriously. Much to Sam and Dean's regret because they have no idea if he even understood the rules of the game or if he's just playing them.

Sam looks down at his cards and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, immediately regretting the movement because Dean would know it's a tell. His following sigh is almost identical to Dean's, and he drops his cards on the table. "I fold,” he sighs.

Dean grunts. “Chicken.“

He gets a very pissed look from Sam for this, but Dean just returns the favor. Sammy abandoned him in the fight against an unbeatable force. Cas is just too unpredictable.

Usually, Dean thinks that he can read the angel pretty good by now, but it seems that this only works if Cas lets him do it. Which is not now. On the other hand, Dean has a feeling that Cas can still read him pretty good even if he tries to give nothing away. Not the best presetting while playing poker.

Dean’s only chance is to actually have the better hand, so he just shoves his money to the middle of the table. “All in. Let's see what you've got,” he tells Cas.

Cas doesn't hesitate and places his cards on the table. The move is followed by a low whistle from Sam. “I hope you can beat that.“

Of course, Dean can't, and when he looks at the angel, one thing becomes entirely clear. Cas knows. He knew all along in every damn game. Right now Dean is pretty sure the angel is even capable of cheating, but he can't feel angry about it because there's something in Cas' eyes that fuels his bloodstream again.

A little spark dances in the stoic blue, teasing him. Dean doesn't take his eyes away when he places his cards on the table.  
“It seems you got me.“

Cas's head tilts just a tiny fraction and Dean wonders if he picked up on the double meaning of his words. Sam, on the other hand, is oblivious to their silent conversation and stretches with long yawning. “Guess we lost enough for today,“ he says, “time for bed.”

As if this was his cue Cas gets up from his chair, forcing Dean to take action. For some reason, Dean doesn't want the angel to leave, so he holds his gaze and smiles. “Let's call it beginner's luck. Next time I will beat you.“

Cas shrugs almost invisibly, and Dean isn't sure if a little smile is playing around his lips with his next words. “Maybe one day. But today you're my little bitch.“

Before one of the brothers can answer there's the familiar sound of fluttering wings and Cas is gone. Next to Dean Sam lets out a disbelieving grunt. “Did he really just say that?“

Dean tries to get his shit together because it's definitely not a good idea to tell Sam what being called Cas' little bitch does to his imagination.

“An excellent example that gambling changes people,” Dean says, busying himself with collecting all the cards on the table.

Sam laughs, but suddenly he leans forward and places a hand in the middle of the table. “Apparently it does. He took our money.“

Dean looks at the table in disbelief. “All of it?“

“Yes,” With a grunt Sam falls back against his chair and rubs his eyes, “which means we don't even have the money to pay for the room.“

And Dean thought it might be a good thing for the angel to loosen up a bit. “That little shit.“

“What do you wanna do about it?“ Sam asks.

Dean hates to do it, but he gets to his feet and looks up at the ceiling although he knows perfectly well that it's foolish to pray in the direction of heaven. “Cas! Get your feathery ass down here and bring our money back!“

Nothing happens, and Dean starts to pace up and down the room.

“Cas, you better get here right now or I-“ He doesn't finish the sentence because it's pretty clear that there's nothing he can threaten the angel with. “Come on, Cas. Don't be a dick,” he pleads instead.

They wait in silence for another minute but then Sam gets to his feet. “He's not coming.“

Dean punches a first down at the table. “What the hell does he need money for?“

Suddenly a big smirk appears on Sam's face. “My guess is he's buying you a pretty collar and a leash,” he jokes before dashing out of the room before Dean even tries to reach him. Dean watches him from the doorframe.

“Where are you going?“ Dean asks.

“Hustle some pool? Sam says. “I have a few dollars left I can bet with.“

“We can just wait for Cas to come back.“

“Yeah sure. Because Cas is on such an organized schedule. It could be days before we see him and I won't sleep in the Impala again.“

Normally, Dean would agree with Sammy, but after today's events, he refuses to believe that Cas would leave him like that. Of course, he can't tell his brother that.

Sam raises his arms in question. “You're coming?“

“I can't turn down a few hours of sleep just because Cas decides to be an ass.“ Dean regrets the words when he realizes that Cas could hear him. “And maybe he comes back.“

Sam shakes his head but his arms fall to his sides, and he turns around. “Fine. Get your beauty sleep.“

“Oh, I will.“

When Dean gets back inside the room, he takes another look at the table. It's really not likely for Cas to take their money. What could he possibly do with it?

That one and a lot of other questions will definitely keep him awake, but he could at least lie down for a bit. He walks over to the adjoining room with the beds and is on the verge of slumping down on one of them when he sees something on the other bed.

He stops in front of the bed, unable to move when he realizes what it is. He picks it up just to be sure, but it's impossible to be mistaken for anything else. It's a black collar, and the leash attached to it hangs down to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

A sheer flood of thoughts rushes through Dean's mind, but they all freeze a second later. He knows he's not alone anymore. By now he's so used to the bond with his angel that he may be able to feel him miles away if he put his mind to it. Still, he can't move. He can't speak. If it wasn't natural for him to just exist he may even stop that right now.

“Hello, Dean.“

Dean swallows hard because Cas doesn't even sound different from all the times he greeted him before. As if it's totally normal to leave a collar behind on top of a guy’s bed and then just come back to say hello. Worst of all is the fact that in the future Dean will remember this moment whenever Cas greets him again. If he doesn't die of shame and embarrassment first. A little bit of anger rises in him, and that's probably what gives him the strength to turn around. “Cas-”

He wants to say more but what could he possibly say to that? The only thing he can hope for now is that Cas just misunderstood Sam's joke. That he has no idea what it means to put a collar on a person. That he doesn't know what it means to be somebody's bitch. 

Unfortunately for Dean Cas' eyes tell another story. Additional to the sparks from before there's something else entirely. The only word coming to Dean's mind is ‘hunger.’ And – oh god – he knows what happens when Cas tries to appease his hunger. 

As a threat to his thoughts, Cas takes another step forward, so he's even closer now than when he invaded Dean's personal space before. Sheer panic swells up in Dean and makes him talk while he holds up the collar like a protective shield. “You really want me to wear that?“

Cas tilts his head, but this time it's not amusing or endearing at all. He looks like a hawk shortly before his attack. “I haven't decided yet,” he says, “I'm not sure if I want you with more or fewer clothes on.“

Dean hates himself for it, but his breath hitches in his throat and his hands start to tremble so much that the leash begins to sway back and forth. He forces his fingers hard around the leather to make it stop while Cas comes even closer. 

By now Dean is sure that Cas knows perfectly well what this is all about. The question now is: why? “You said you just watched the pizza man,” Dean says, still trying to tell himself that Cas must be clueless.

It may be one of the dumbest things Dean ever said in his life and Cas reaction is even worse. There's actually a little smirk on his face. “I said that; yes. That doesn't mean that I didn't observe other people. I had a lot of time for it, and it's fascinating how much people finally show to each other when they're naked and free to follow their every desire.“

Dean tries to breathe, but images flood his head again. Not in his wildest dreams would he have ever imagined the angel taking millennia of time to study humans in their most vulnerable state. And how could Cas possibly understand what it feels like for the humans? Why would he want to do what he saw? 

Cas takes another step, and Dean can feel his breath on him, his warmth. He can smell the damn angel and is brought back to the bar where he experienced first hand what it means to be touched by him. He wants him to do it again but isn't sure if that doesn't border on suicide. His body is heating up like hell only because Cas keeps looking at him. Who knows what will happen if he does more than that.

“Do you know how many people have sex right now?“ Cas asks. Dean slowly shakes his head because he feels like he needs to answer Cas but is still unable to talk. Cas continues, “The sheer number is arousing, believe me. And I could watch each and every one of them.“ This time Dean doesn't move at all. He has no idea what to do or even think. He's not even sure if he's awake right now. “But I guess I just want to watch one,” Cas concludes, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.

Dean can't hold Cas' gaze anymore, and he drops his eyes to the ground, sure that he just has the wildest dream ever. Oddly enough it feels pretty real when soft fingers touch his face, trace along his jaw, and gently lift up his chin. Where they connect with his skin lava seems to invade his body and flow through every muscle till he's burning from the inside.

“Do you want to be one of those people, Dean?“ Cas asks. The question is perfectly clear, but obviously, Cas wants him to lose his mind by just listening to the tantalizing promise of lust that his voice is to him right now. “Do you want to have sex?“

Dean isn't sure if fainting counts as yes or no, so he forces himself to breathe and he really wants to answer. It's not like he has to think about it. God knows he has an answer for this since too long ago. It's just not very easy to speak when fingers trail along your lips and every fiber of your body trembles from an almost touch. “You have to talk to me,” Cas insists.

There's the little smirk again, and Dean wishes he could just kill the damn angel. Cas’ hand travels further down now and teases his Adam's apple like he can tickle the words out of Dean. As if he wants to finish him completely, Cas leans in, and his lips travel slightly over Dean's ear while he speaks. “Answer me, Dean.“

It's bad enough to be asked such a question but to be fucking commanded to answer is just torture. Dean needs to man up quickly, or the angel will eat him alive. He closes his eyes and breathes in the sheer essence of Cas to give him the answer he never would give to any other angel. “Yes.“

Cas looks at him again and seems a little bit surprised, so this time it's Dean who can't hide the smile. They went this far, and there's no way back so he should enjoy this. “I want to have sex,” Dean says, leaning in to get as close as possible to Cas' ear, “with you.“

Maybe Dean should have given his words a little more thought because he knows that Cas has the tendency to go overboard with specific things. When he wants to talk to you, he shatters windows. When he meets you for the first time, he blows out light bulbs and almost brings the ceiling down. When you ask him for help, he full on rebels against heaven and falls for you. And when he wants to have sex- Let's just say it's maybe not a good idea to tease him.

When the words leave Dean's mouth, Cas' arms are around Dean's waist in a second, and there's that weird pull he normally feels when Cas zaps him somewhere. The next thing is the rustling of wings, and a moment later Dean is pressed against the wall of the room with Cas' hands placed on each side of his head and an intensity in his eyes that makes Dean shiver. 

The only thing worse is Cas voice when he speaks again. It's not only deep but somehow dark and dull like he's trying to hold something back. Dean fears for the windows. “Last chance to run,” Cas says. He’s giving Dean a choice to get out.

Dean is thankful for that because they both know there's only yes or no and nothing in between. Still, he's no one to get back from his word, so he slowly shakes his head and hopes that the angel understands how much this really means to him. “Not going anywhere.“

There's an oppressive silence, and their eyes meet for the most crucial second in their lives. It's the last time they look at each other as friends.

The next second they both close their eyes when they're lips touch for the first time. Dean can't even tell if he's kissing Cas or Cas is kissing him. They met somewhere in the middle, and Dean feels like they finally unite something that never should have been separated. 

There's fire running through his veins and ice melting on his skin. The sound of wind and waves strains his ears, and a comforting mixture of smells surrounds him. There are honey and pie, flowers and fireworks, fresh snow and skin heated by the sun. Kissing Cas is like tasting life, and Dean fears he might get addicted to this because he already misses it when they part for just a second. üThey share one calm breath before pure longing takes over, forcing them together in a coveting dance of lips, tongue, and teeth. Maybe it's the fact they waited so long for this that makes them go from tender to tearing in seconds. 

To get his hands free Dean throws the collar back onto the nearest bed and he intends to touch Cas but only manages to hold onto his shoulders when Cas starts to kiss and lick his way from Dean's jaw to his ear and down his neck, making his jeans just a little too tight in the process. It's so typical for the angel to hit his fucking sweet spots in the first minute of their first making out session and Dean really wants to control himself, but when Cas sucks in his skin and bites down, maybe giving him a hickey like a horny teenager, Dean can't help it anymore. A small moan escapes his open lips, and suddenly Cas pulls away from him, a questioning look on his face like he needs to make sure he didn't hurt Dean. 

It's hard to admit, but that's maybe the cutest thing that ever happened to Dean, and it only strengthens the wish to get Cas back to where he just left off. “It's fine. It's just- I'm a little sensitive there,” Dean says.

Maybe he shouldn't have said that because immediately there is mischief glistening in Cas' eyes. He places one tender kiss behind Dean's ear, and his lips almost touch him when he speaks. “There?“

Dean can't decide what's more exciting. The mouth or the voice coming out of it. Maybe both. Both are good. “Yes, there.“

He gets another kiss lower down his neck.  
“And there?“

“Yeah, I guess-“ Dean realizes that it's hard to sound casual when you have trouble breathing. And Cas' tongue teasing every little hair on his skin isn't helpful at all. “Fine. Everywhere. Happy?“

This grants Dean a little smile from Cas, and his heart jumps because he just can't get used to such an expression on the angel's face. It doesn't hold for long. A second later the frown is back, and he starts pulling on Dean's clothes. “Not yet. I think I need more skin,” Cas grunts.

Dean really doesn't want to know for what but still helps Cas – who started to kiss the already exposed skin again – to open the buttons of his plaid shirt and when Cas pulls it down his arms it becomes clear that he isn't a big fan of clothes. He throws the shirt away and eyes the next layer on Dean with displeasure. “Take it off,” Cas commands, leading to more trouble for Dean and his blood pressure. 

Even worse, Cas takes a few steps back and watches Dean like he’s a stripper. Still, Dean complies and pulls the shirt slowly over his head and judging from the look on Cas' face that's definitely a move he should consider for their next game of poker. It's even enough to keep Cas entirely still, so Dean just goes on and opens the fly of his jeans, struggling a little with the bulge underneath and regretting it immediately when a low hiss from the angel increases his blood flow even more.

Maybe he should even the score before losing more protection. “You want to keep all these layers on?“

In response, Cas shrugs of the coat and suit jacket and throws them over a chair in the corner before moving closer to Dean again.

“Your turn,” Cas says, but Dean shakes his head.

“You have more clothes on now than you did in the bar.“

Cas fights the tie off and throws it carelessly behind himself before closing the distance to Dean. “Your. Turn.“

His voice makes very clear that Dean shouldn't object again and Dean is glad he already opened the jeans, or they maybe would have just busted open themselves. Still, he decides to not give in just yet and only brings the jeans down a few inches to coax Cas into touching him again. It works almost too good. Seconds later Cas' lips are on his again, and warm hands travel down his chest and give him goosebumps all over his body. For a while, they don't move and just enjoy bringing their lips together before parting again and kiss, hold on for a second and meet again, tips of tongues teasing and finally rubbing against each other to fully taste and give silent promises what else could be done with them.

Dean totally forgets about his jeans in the process and instead trails his fingers through Cas' hair while Cas’ hand travel down to his hips and pull down the jeans. They fall down to the floor, and Dean steps out of them while his fingers reach out to the buttons on Cas’ shirt. “Don’t bother,” Cas says.

Before Dean can ask why, there’s the pull again, and Dean sinks into the mattress of his bed. Cas just flew them over here and simultaneously shed his clothes. They lie on a pile where they stood, and Dean is confronted with Cas’ naked body. He lets his eyes roam, taking in every inch and marveling at every shape and curve. 

After all this time that they danced around each other, this is something special. They should take their time, celebrate it, and hell, talk about their feelings, even Dean has to admit that, but right now he doesn’t want to. They probably built up too much tension, and all he wants is proper release. “After coming in here and acting all tough, you better fuck me good,” Dean demands.

“I fully plan on doing so,” Cas says, not missing a beat. “But first-” 

Cas disappears, but before Dean can wonder about it, Cas is back in the same position. The only thing that changed is a small bottle of lube he’s holding in his hand. Dean grins. “Please tell me you didn’t just walk into a store butt naked.”

“I took this and left some money, nobody saw me,” Cas says and flips open the bottle.

“Maybe we should talk about your use of our limited funds,” Dean jokes. “First the collar, and now lube.”

Cas leans in and focuses on Dean. “I can take both back and get the money.”

He acts like he wants to get up from the bed, but Dean puts his arms around him. “Don’t be hasty. I mean, now that we got it, we might as well put it to good use.”

Dean pulls Cas closer to kiss him again, and their bodies line up so perfectly that they end up desperately rutting against each other. There’s a good chance Dean might have come from this alone, but Cas has other plans. He makes his way down Dean’s body with kisses and little bites, and what his mouth can’t reach, he covers with his hands. Soon, he reaches Dean’s boxers and pulls them down as if he’s done so a thousand times, and Dean’s body grows tense with anticipation, at least until Cas touches him again.

He takes his time opening Dean up, and Dean turns into a pool of moaning pleasure. It’s him who reaches for Cas and drags him back up, and Cas carefully pushes into Dean. They start slow, eyes locked and barely moving, just enjoying how close they finally are. Only when their kisses grow heated, Dean puts his legs around Cas and pushes him deeper, desperate to feel as much as possible.

What Dean doesn’t know is how much more Cas can feel and see. The second they kissed, a whole new world opened up for him. Dean let his guard down, and Cas doesn’t have to fight tooth and nail to even get a glimpse at his soul. This bright ball of light is glowing inside of Dean, and with every kiss and every touch, little flakes of light shed from the core. Now, pressed close against Dean’s body, Cas can even feel it, hot and intense, like flames that make their way through kindling in seconds. He holds Dean, and for once, Dean doesn’t push him away or tries to distance himself, but instead, he desperately claws at Cas, always begging for more. 

Cas pushes himself to his knees, and before Dean can protest, Cas lifts him up, always holding him close. Dean makes good use of the new position. His fingers dig into Cas’ shoulders while he pushes himself up and down, riding Cas’ cock like his life depends on it, and all Cas can do is hold him and watch how he unravels. A hard layer breaks around Dean’s soul, and rays of light find their way through every crack. They surround him like a halo that covers his whole body, and with every push, more and more light comes through. Cas marvels at the sight and his hands steady Dean’s body, holding him, so Dean can follow his every desire. But Dean grows restless on top of him. He leans down, biting Cas’ ear. “Fuck, Cas, I need more.”

Cas gently pushes him off, so Dean goes on all fours, and Cas enters him from behind. Dean tries to lean forward, but Cas pulls him closer while he moves. Dean lifts his arms up and puts them around Cas’ neck, holding on as good as possible. He might not know how Cas is spreading his wings and surrounds him with them, but he leans into Cas, surrendering completely. The light around Dean grows even brighter, evaporating like smoke and colors seep out of the shell, from light greens over clear blues to rich lilac and gold. Cas wishes Dean could see it, but all he can do is whisper to Dean, “So beautiful, Dean. You are breathtaking.”

Dean answers with a moan, and he leans his head back, his cheek rubbing against Cas’ to have them touch as much as possible. His soul bursts open and glistening butterflies take flight, the sound of their wings becoming a melody that resonates so deep inside of Cas that it touches his grace. He can feel it rise and leak out of him, surrounding Dean like a protective shield. He wishes all the world could see Dean’s transformation, but at the same time, he wants to keep it all to himself. 

“Cas, please,” Dean moans, and while Cas’ wings close around them, Cas reaches forward to grab Dean’s cock. Cas keeps rocking into Dean without pause and massages him with long strokes, breaking any reserve Dean had up to this point. Dean’s moans grow louder, unrestricted, and he alternates between whispering Cas’ name and grunting profanities. 

Cas has seen countless humans at this moment, lost in ecstasy, but even after millennia he had no way of knowing how it actually feels to be with someone. It takes all of his willpower to stay in his vessel, almost overwhelmed by the sensations. His skin is hot against Dean’s, covered in sweat, their hearts race and they’re both breathing heavy, always on the brink of exhaustion, but too ecstatic to stop or even pause.

Dean’s screams of pleasure are growing louder and more erratic. Sometimes he bites his lip to hold them in, but only seconds later they break through anyway and alternate with sighs and desperate pleas to Cas. With every second like this, his soul becomes more and more visible, unfolding like a flower in spring. Golden dust springs free and coats Cas’ wings, a swirl of white mist dances around them and mingles with Cas’ grace, and then there’s deep, warm humming, like mother earth herself is giving her voice to Dean’s soul. 

Cas finally understands. Dean’s soul is not the sea or a forest; it’s nothing that could be shown in one simple metaphor. The reason why it’s been hidden and only reveals itself now is simple. Dean’s soul is pure love.

Love that Cas feels now, with every touch, every breath, and every moan. Love that resonates every time Dean speaks his name, and that has been there for so long, every time Dean looked at Cas. It’s time to return the favor.

Cas’ grace reaches out to Dean’s soul, and he holds him close while he finally speaks the words, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s voice is hoarse and barely a whisper when he speaks. “Love you, too. I love you,” he repeats like a mantra, and his body grows tense again. Cas keeps stroking Dean’s cock and holds on tight when Dean comes, his soul singing to Cas, no longer hidden. 

Cas carefully leans back and takes Dean with him, his body resting against Cas’ chest, and he slowly strokes Dean’s hair with his wings still surrounding them. He uses his grace to make sure Dean’s body doesn’t give out on him but doesn’t take away the post-sex haze, and Dean turns around to cuddle up to him. “There’s room for improvement, but not bad for your first time.”

They both stay silent for a second, but then Dean laughs against Cas’ chest and Cas smiles. “I’ll do my best. Next time.”

“Next time,” Dean sighs, “I like the sound of that.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean’s head is resting on Cas’ chest, and he enjoys the closeness and warmth while listening to Cas’ heartbeat. Cas slowly runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, finally understanding why humans crave intimacy. He’d like to stay like this for years, but Dean and Cas were so wrapped up in each other that they forgot one little detail.

“Sam is coming back,” Cas says, his body becoming rigid under Dean. 

Before Dean can say anything, there’s the sound of wings, and Dean’s head drops on top of the empty pillow. A second later, Dean can hear the key in the door and quickly covers himself up.

Sam walks in quietly but stops irritated. “Dean, are you sleeping?” 

The light is still on, and it would be childish to pretend, so Dean turns to Sam. “No, still up,” he says and tries to come up with something that might take the focus away from him. “Do you have the money?”

“Yes, I-” Sam cuts himself off when he picks up an item from his bed. “What the hell?”

It’s the collar, and Dean does his best to act casual. “Yeah, um, Cas came back. He does have a sense of humor after all.”

“I guess,” Sam still sounds confused and shakes his head. “Did he give you back the money?”

Dean completely forgot about the money, but nods. “Yeah, at least the rest of it.”

He nods in the direction of the collar and Sam shrugs before putting it down on the table. “I’m glad we invited him, but-”

Sam stops again, and Dean follows his gaze. He already found the collar, what else could there be?

“Why would he take that off?” Sam asks, pointing at Cas’ trenchcoat that’s still hanging over the chair.

Dean tries his best to come up with a lie, but all he can think about is the true answer and what happened after Cas took off the coat.

The thought might have been written on his face. Sam’s eyes wander from Dean over the coat to the collar and Dean can see on Sam’s face how he answers his own question. “Oh no. No. Dean. Did you-? Oh god,” Sam stutters, his face torn between shock and disgust.

Dean only shrugs. There’s no point in lying and nothing he can say.

Sam doesn’t even look at him. He hastily grabs his bag and shakes his head, probably trying to get rid of the pictures in his head. “I’m getting another room,” he announces and storms out of the room, the door falling shut behind him with a loud bang.

Dean stretches out in the bed with a sigh. That - like the whole evening - was not how he imagined things would go but at least the cat is out of the bag now. No more lies, no more pretending. A weight falls off of him, and he smiles.

“You forgot your coat,” he says into the air.

A few seconds later there’s ruffling of wings, and the mattress dips down next to Dean. “Is he mad?” Cas asks, worry in his voice.

Dean turns around to Cas and finds him dressed and with concern written on his face. “Nah, he was just surprised. He’ll be fine.” Cas nods, visibly relieved and Dean smiles. “Maybe you should put the coat back on.”

Cas furrows his brows but gets up, and Dean quickly grabs his arm. “Just to be clear,” he says, his eyes wandering down Cas’ body, “I mean, just the coat.”

There’s the sound of Cas wings again. He disappears before Dean’s eyes but is back a second later. “I wear just the coat, and you wear this.” He holds up the collar. “And I mean, just this.”

Dean falls back onto the bed with a sigh. This is going to be a long night.


End file.
